Read To Tempt an Irish Rogue Online
Authors: Kaitlin O'Riley
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Fiction
To Tempt an Irish Rogue (5 page)
Chapter 6
Confidences
“What was all that about?” Colette turned on her as soon as Declan Reeves left the shop.
“What do you mean?” Paulette attempted to remain calm and failed utterly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Paulette! I’ve got eyes, haven’t I? What was going on between you and Lord Cashelmore?”
Paulette had never been very good at keeping secrets and she certainly couldn’t keep this one to herself another moment. “Oh, Colette, he kissed me!”
“He did what?!”
The shock on her older sister’s face, the sister who acted as a mother to her for most of her life, left Paulette feeling more embarrassed than she had ever felt about anything. She admired and looked up to Colette. The thought that she might have done something to disappoint or scandalize her was very sobering.
“He . . . I . . . Well, we kissed each other.”
Colette’s mouth opened but no sound came out.
Paulette began to babble. “I don’t know how it happened really. One minute he was looking for books and I went to help him. We almost bumped into each other and I put my hands out to stop myself from slamming into him and then we exchanged a few words and the next thing I knew he was kissing me and I was kissing him back and then you came into the shop and called my name . . .”
Her sister stared at her in astonishment. “But you just met him. He’s a complete stranger!”
“Yes, I know, but I’ve met his daughter already and he’s been here twice now so he doesn’t seem so much like a stranger and now you know him too so he’s not entirely unfamiliar—”
“Oh, hello, Colette,” Lizzie Parker called as she ventured from where she had been working in the back room, completely unaware of the little drama that had unfolded while she had been taking inventory. “We’re missing a set of books that we ordered from Blackwell’s. I’m going to stop by their office now and while I’m there I’ll see that they send the correct order to the new shop.” She paused and looked between Paulette and Colette. “Am I interrupting something?”
Paulette answered first, grateful for her assistant’s timely intrusion. She had almost forgotten that the girl was there, so caught up was she in all that had happened with Declan Reeves. “Not at all, Lizzie. Thank you for taking care of that order. I’m sure it’s just an oversight on Blackwell’s part.”
Lizzie nodded. “Yes, that’s what I thought as well.”
“Thank you, Lizzie,” Colette added.
“I shall be back before lunch.” And with that, Lizzie Parker left the shop, leaving Colette and Paulette alone.
Colette wasted no time. “What are you thinking? The man is a complete and total stranger!”
“I can’t explain it, but it felt like we knew each other. I know he’s a stranger, but he didn’t feel like a stranger when he was kissing me!” Paulette cried, the pitch of her voice increasing.
“That is exactly my point!” Colette exclaimed in frustration. “How can you be kissing a man you don’t even know?”
Paulette did something she didn’t normally do. She burst into tears.
Colette’s manner changed from one of outrage to one of concern. “I’m not angry with you, Paulette. I’m angry with that man for taking advantage of you. Don’t cry.” She patted Paulette’s shoulder in comfort. “I’m not angry with you.”
“Yes, you are.” Paulette reached into the pocket of her dress and took out a handkerchief and began wiping her eyes. Goodness! How had the day taken such a dramatic turn, and it wasn’t even noon yet! She had been at the shop early, ready for a busy day, happy with her little basket of shortbread cookies. And then
he
had come in. He kissed her and she kissed him back. It was heavenly. It was madness. It sounded ridiculous even to her. Somehow everything had changed and now she was crying like a silly fool.
he
had come in. He kissed her and she kissed him back. It was heavenly. It was madness. It sounded ridiculous even to her. Somehow everything had changed and now she was crying like a silly fool.
“I’m not angry. I’m just very concerned about you.” Colette sighed in resignation. “This behavior is so unlike you and something about that man worries me and I can’t place my finger on what it is.”
“Lucien mentioned him during supper the other night,” Paulette confessed with a sniffle. “Declan Reeves is suspected of murdering his wife in Ireland.”
“Oh, dear God in heaven!” Colette gasped, placing her hand over her heart. “That’s where I’ve heard his name before! Oh, Paulette, you must stay away from him!”
The bell over the shop door rang and two customers entered the store. Two young gentlemen, obviously university students, stood before them.
“Welcome to Hamilton’s!” Colette called brightly through clenched teeth. “How can we help you today?”
Paulette quickly turned her back and tried to compose herself, taking a deep breath and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
The taller of the two men answered, “We need a book for our history class. Here is the title.” He handed a piece of paper with handwriting on it to Colette.
“Oh, yes. I believe we have that textbook in the history section, just over there. Do you see the sign?” Colette pointed out to them the placard hanging from green ribbon with the word “History” elegantly painted in black. “Look on the third shelf and I shall be right with you.”
The two students walked away and Colette hissed at her, “You must stay away from that man, Paulette. He might be very dangerous.”
“I was not planning to see him again,” Paulette responded, sounding somewhat defensive.
“Good! We’ll discuss this at home later. Don’t forget that Lisette is joining us at Devon House this evening.”
Colette moved around the counter, on her way to help the two students, when the door opened and an elderly lady entered the shop. The quiet of the morning ended and Paulette gratefully lost herself in the usual business of selling books. They were so busy for a good portion of the day that she pushed the tempting thoughts of Declan Reeves, the Earl of Cashelmore, and his kisses to the back of her mind and occupied herself with the needs of the bookshop. They did brisk business that day and Paulette was thankful that Lizzie returned to help when Colette left early to take care of her son.
When Lizzie finally departed at the end of the day, Paulette was left to close up the shop. Alone once more, the events of the morning and her kiss with Declan all came back to her. Certain a discussion with Colette awaited her at Devon House, Paulette was in no hurry to go home even though Lisette was visiting. As the long, lazy rays of the sun sunk low in the August sky, the shop was shrouded in stillness and Paulette soaked up the silence.
She sat on one of the two high stools behind the front counter and stared at the ledger in front of her that accounted for the day’s sales in her neat handwriting. Long columns of numbers swam before her eyes. She usually tallied them up with a skill and efficiency that surprised most people. Now, however, Paulette couldn’t add together two plus two. Just as she had that morning, she simply could not focus on the figures.
Her mind could only think of Declan Reeves and how it felt to be kissed by him.
The novelty of her first kiss filled her with wonder. She had definitely enjoyed the experience and would not mind kissing him again. But was it kissing Declan specifically or would it be the same kissing some other man? She had never had a beau or anyone call on her before. Not that men weren’t attracted to her. To the contrary, there had been a few gentlemen who expressed their interest in calling on her to Lucien, but Paulette had refused them. So she had to assume it was only Declan she’d wanted to kiss.
He said he would return to the shop. As she recalled his remark her heart fluttered. He intended to see her alone and call her by her name. And part of her was thrilled by that knowledge.
The other part of her was terrified. Absolutely terrified. What did she really know about Declan Reeves? He was a widower. He was from Ireland and a member of the aristocracy, although that hardly mattered to her. Seemingly, he was a caring father who read to his young daughter. He liked books. Oh, and the man was quite skilled at kissing.
And he may have murdered his wife.
Paulette had always believed herself to be an expert judge of character. She knew Lucien Sinclair was a good man as soon as she met him, and she had been right about that. She had always distrusted her Uncle Randall and had been proven correct on that account time and again. Instinctively she felt that Declan Reeves was not a murderer. Perhaps there had been some sort of accident and he was inadvertently responsible. He could not have killed a woman on purpose. Knowingly. She was sure of that.
At least she hoped she was.
A gentle tapping on the shop door caught her attention. Glancing at the door she saw that she had flipped the sign to “Closed” but had not drawn the shade. As if she had conjured him up by her thoughts alone, standing outside the door was Declan Reeves.
Suddenly Paulette’s legs were shaking so much she could barely stand. She stumbled to the door to let him in, feeling dizzy with giddiness at his sudden appearance.
“Hello,” she said as she stepped back to allow him to enter.
“Hello, Paulette,” he said, and her heart raced at the sound of her name on his lips. They were most definitely alone in the shop. “These are for you.”
He handed her a small bouquet of lily of the valley.
“Oh my!” She accepted the flowers with a delighted squeal, breathing in their sweet scent. “They are my favorite. Thank you!”
“I thought I should bring you something by way of an apology for kissing you.”
“Oh.” She moved behind the counter again, feeling much safer behind it.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“After I left this morning I got to thinking that it really was not well done of me,” he said, shaking his head. “Kissing you like that . . . Well, it is not something I usually do.”
“Nor I,” Paulette said softly, placing the fragrant bouquet into ajar of water.
“Of course, I didn’t mean to insinuate that you did,” he began. He sighed heavily. “I just thought I ought to tell you that I apologize for my behavior.”
“Thank you. I accept your apology.”
He made a move toward the door. “Well, then, I wish you a good—”
“Did Mara like the book of nursery rhymes?” Paulette asked hurriedly before he had a chance to leave.
Declan paused, then stepped back. “Yes, she did. Thank you for selecting it. She hasn’t put it down. She’s fascinated by the pictures.”
“Mara seems like a sweet girl.” Paulette slowly sat on the high stool.
“Ah, that she is.”
“How long has it been since she’s spoken?” Paulette found herself asking.
A dark shadow passed across his features. “It’s almost been a year. A very long year.”
“She misses her mother very much, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
Never one to hide what she was thinking, Paulette decided since they were on the subject, she would ask him straight out. “How did your wife die?”
“There was a terrible fire.”
Now was the time. She held her breath and asked him the question that had haunted her all day long. “Is it as the rumors say? Did you cause her death?”
A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth and his eyes glittered. With careful steps he came around to her side of the counter. His tall form loomed over her. “I have the oddest feeling you would be disappointed if I said no, Paulette.”
“I beg your pardon?” Her voice squeaked a little in spite of herself.
“Do you find it exciting to think you were kissed by a murderer?”
“Heavens no!” she gasped, panic racing through her. “How can you ask such a question?”
“Well, what do you think, Paulette?” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “You have obviously read the accusations in the papers that people are casting upon me. Do you think I killed my wife?”
Her heart hammering, Paulette did not pause in the slightest in answering him. “No, I don’t believe you could do such a terrible thing.”
Declan seemed a bit surprised. And then very relieved. He moved to sit on one of the stools beside her. “Thank you for that.”
“You still didn’t answer the question though,” she pointed out. Her nerves tingled at his nearness to her.
His eyes met hers with a steady gaze. “No, Paulette. I did not kill my wife nor did I have anything to do with her death. Although there are people who would dearly love to believe otherwise.”
The honesty in his voice and the sincerity in his eyes confirmed what she had felt in her heart. Declan had not killed his wife. Paulette felt more than a little relieved by his response, too.
“But why?” she questioned him. “Why do people blame you for her death, Declan?”
“Because sometimes it’s easier to blame a person for something that has happened than to accept the reality.”
“Which is . . .” she prompted him to continue.
His mouth set in a grim line. “A very long story for another time perhaps.”
Paulette sat silent for a moment. “Thank you for telling me as much as you did. My questions were a bit presumptuous.”
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